


The one with the waggly tail…

by VictorSinister



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Children, Cutesy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7362613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictorSinister/pseuds/VictorSinister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morsov makes friends with a Pup who has a unique characteristic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one with the waggly tail…

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here: http://victorsinister.tumblr.com/post/134492216280/the-one-with-the-waggly-tail
> 
> This had been floating around my head for a while now, but a certain fic by tatecorrigan about Slit and a Pup inspired me to get it done. Real-life human tails do exist, and are more or less as I described the Pup’s tail - a little vestigial appendage.

“’E pulled my tail,“ the Pup sniffled, rubbing his clay-streaked cheeks with chubby little fists. “Is it okay?”

Morsov looked up from the lance he was working on. “Weird kid. I don’t wanna see, it’s not a tail, lizards have tails an’ we ha-…” He was stunned into silence when the little boy turned around. There it was.

A tail. A real live tail.

It was tiny and flesh-coloured, sitting at the base of the Pup’s spine, roughly the same size and shape as one of the child’s pudgy fingers.

“You got a bloody tail!” Good job pointing out the obvious.

“Blood? Nooo…” Bursting into tears, the Pup threw himself on to Morsov’s leg, burying his face into the grimy fabric of his trousers. “’S gonna fall off!”

“Nah, nah, not like that! I mean… like ‘bloody hell, it’s a tail’!” He set aside the lance he was working on and patted the kid’s back, sneaking a peek at the vestigial appendage again. “It’s fine. It’s not goin’ anywhere.”

It was best not to get too close to Pups of this age. They were old enough to wander around and try to join in with everything, but not old enough to understand how to. Clearly, someone hadn’t been watching the pack well enough.

The Pup’s wailing dropped to a sniffle once more, and he pressed his sticky little fingers into Morsov’s arm, interpreting the closeness as a cuddle. “Up,” he demanded.

“What needs up is yer trousers.” Morsov turned the Pup around and hooked his fingers under the waistband of his baggy pants to roughly pull them up “Keep ‘em up an’ no one can pull it again.“

The little boy giggled at being jolted into the air, and his trousers promptly sagged again. As he laughed, the tail wiggled. Not a true wag, but movement, at least. The absurdity of it made Morsov chuckle as well. “Proper little wagtail, you are.”

“Wagtail!” Somehow, at this age, they could go from being distraught to delighted. “Is’at a name?“

Morsov rubbed his forehead. A dedicated little brother was the last thing he needed. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do his duty to the Pups when he needed to, but that he wasn’t confident in his own reliability. Or, for that matter, his lifespan. Let the older ones look up to him for tales of kami-crazy stunts and feats of combat, little ones just needed someone who’d come home in one piece. “No,” he replied bluntly. “It’s not a name. Yer tail’s fine, go back t’ the others.”

That distraught expression had returned. “But my trousers falled down an’ my tail gonna get pulled…“

“Dammit.” Morsov wasn’t going to give up one of his own belts for a tearful Pup. No way…

The Pup’s tail wiggled when he sobbed as well.

“Oh DAMMIT. It’s judging me. That tail is starin’ me in the face.” Morsov said it with such a melodramatic tone that the little boy smiled. Really, Pups were about as prone to mood swings as he was. He unbuckled his belt. “Arms up.”

It was hard to get the belt through the belt loops while the Pup was bouncing about and squealing with excitement, but somehow, he managed. It had to go around twice, and he noted, “You’ll grow into it in a few years time. Take care of it, an’ it’ll last.“

“Forever?” With huge, shining eyes, the little boy looked up at him in wonder. “Long as you had it?”

“Until ya join me in Walhalla. Then I’ll want it back. So if anyone tries t’ take it, tell ‘em I’ll get ‘em.” He emphasised the last words with a mock snarl, that the Pup eagerly copied. “Now, get outta here.“

This time, the kid was happy to run off and rejoin his peers. Morsov could hear him yelling as he scampered down the corridor, “I got a bloody belt! I got a name!”

Looked as if he’d have to make sure he came home.


End file.
